We Will Be Soundless
by Val-Creative
Summary: With the whole world gone to hell… he just needs a quiet place to lay low. Lance finds what he thinks is an abandoned cottage by a field, in the midst of an alien invasion, only to be discovered trespassing by someone in a sundress and carrying a rifle. /Modern AU. Plance. Pidgance. Oneshot.


**.**

 **.**

With the whole world gone to shit… he just needs a quiet place to lay low.

Lance treks through an open, grass field, on a hilltop. He's mindful of every pebble, every rock or twig that could be in his path. It's how Veronica… _well_ , she's gone. That's all there is.

Maybe.

His family didn't make it through the invasion. Not them… lively, beautiful and cheerful even while panicked. Not even the little ones. Lance's nephew and niece didn't understand this wasn't a game. That they all weren't really playing pretend and that the monsters waiting out of sight only just needed to hear you _gasp_ to snatch you up and drag you into the shadows with them, never to be found again.

A cool, light breeze passes him. Lance's bottom lip trembles at the memory. The _shrieks_.

Down the hill, there's a field of wheat in the distance, and then a dense pocket of woods further on. More closer is a cottage with jade-green shingles and an old, rusty shed not even a yard away. Lance makes his way down, eyeing the area for any signs of life. Human or otherwise. Was someone hunkering down here?

He glimpses a clothes-line of freshly washed shorts and blouses, and then loads of footprints in the sand-drenched walkways. Did they have running water? Or any food? If he's lucky, maybe, they fled the place.

Going around the side of the cottage, Lance stops walking, putting up his hands immediately. A young woman remains the ground, wearing a pale summer-dress stitched with bright red pansies, her long legs spread apart casually. She holds up a rifle, cocked at the height of Lance's groin.

Instead of pure terror seizing him, Lance grimaces and signs furiously.

 _What are you trying to do? Kill us both?_

Her chapped, pink mouth opens into a boisterous smile, peeking her teeth. She shows him the rifle, and then pops open the chambers. Not a single bullet. Lance's heart finally calms somewhat.

Maybe.

The young woman finally hops onto her feet — and Lance tries to not stare hungrily at the flash of her coral pink panties and thighs — greeting him by waving impatiently for Lance's arm. A green marker twirls between her fingers, as she presents it out and scribbles onto the underside of Lance's arm.

 **FOLLOW ME.**

She hurries them into the cottage, stepping onto the path of dark tan sand. Lance practically salivates when the young woman shares her jug of newly squeezed, sugared lemonade and the rice cakes from the pantry. **PIDGE** — that's her name she ends up scribbling out on Lance's arm, smudging off the first message, and then clumsily signs their names out, letter-by-letter with Lance's help.

 _L-A-N-C-E._

The response to learning who he is comes in the form of Pidge handing him a blue marker. He winks, smiling and attempting to twirl the marker before nearly dropping it to the floor-tiles. The panic on both of their expressions is nearly hysterical. Lance signs an apology quickly, pretending to smack his own face.

She pretends to smack him too but allows Lance to stay with her.

For a while.

Maybe.

He catches her in the early morning, hanging out by the porch with her arms folded to the banister and watching the dawn above her. A pair of rose-tinted, heart-shaped sunglasses perches on the edge of her nose. One of the nightshirts flutters up against Pidge's legs, unbuttoned all the way down to her navel and exposing her mole-dusted breasts, and hikes even for her petite, muscle-firm body. The more she leans forward, the more he can see Pidge's round, gorgeous butt in those coral pink panties.

That's the first time Lance makes love to her, in the grass below the porch, cascaded in sunlight and the june-bugs soaring overhead. He clamps a palm over Pidge's kiss-bitten mouth when she comes fiercely, amber-brown eyes rolling back in her skull. She's sensationally _tight_ when Lance humps between her thighs, attempting to pant quietly while moving his cock inside, lifting Pidge's knees and heaving himself on her.

A mess of her own fluids and Lance's come oozes onto the grass and dirt, leaking out of her vaginal folds. A flush-faced Pidge reaches for herself, inserting a finger shakily and swabbing out a wad of moist-sticky come, rubbing it onto Lance's chin and the surface of his mouth until he licks her, tasting both of them.

Lance retaliates with a biting, grinning kiss to Pidge's neck, muffling the ghost of a laugh.

 **THINK IT COULD ALWAYS BE LIKE THIS?**

 **MAYBE.**

He has never _heard_ Pidge's voice, but Lance thinks he loves her.

 **MAYBE.**

His fingertips always smear with blue marker, by the end of another day, and his wrists and forearms with Pidge's green - green like the stains on Pidge's lower legs and her elbows, like the flecks in her big, brown eyes. Lance could find her either lounging and hidden in the ashy-gold wheat field, kicking up her worn, black-and-white Converse sneakers mid-air, crossing her ankles — or find Pidge in the basement, fiddling and welding together scraps of metal as quietly as possible, inventing.

 **YOU GONNA FIND A WAY TO STOP THEM?**

 **HAVE TO TRY.**

There's no escape from the alien invaders, and Lance knows this. He guides her back upstairs, into the kitchen where he touches her waist and presses his erection to Pidge's little bottom. She doesn't resist when Lance tugs up her cotton, lavender dress, glimpsing a pair of lemon-yellow panties this time. He nudge aside the overstretched, worn fabric with a thumb, kneeling and burying his face entirely into Pidge's warm flesh, licking hotly and pushing his tongue _hard_ forward to separate her buttocks.

Pidge ends up bending herself over the countertop, trembling on her feet as Lance teases her, searching with his lips for her vaginal entrance, kissing and suckling heavily on her labia.

 **SORRY.**

He finds it scribbled all over his arms and shoulders, on his wrists and palms and fingers.

Pidge takes all of their supplies and food, as well as the extra backpack Lance brought with him. The dawn rises. He stares up at it through her rosy, heart-shaped sunglasses, naked as sin.

She killed them both in the end.

Maybe.

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 _Voltron isn't mine. LAST DAY FOR PLANCE SMUT WEEK 2K18! Catch me never doing this much for a fandom week ever again LMAOOO! Anyway I got heavily inspired by A Quiet Place and decided to do a very bittersweet version with Plance! Let me know if it broke your heart or not! This is also for Voltron Bingo and my NSFW Genre card space "Writing on Body" yayyyyy! I'm getting through these pretty good I think! Thanks verrrrrrrry much and have a great Sunday! Comments appreciated!  
_


End file.
